Self-flagellation and Sanctity?
The AP reports that a new book authored by the postulator for the cause of John Paul II’s sainthood invokes the late pope’s practice of self-flagellation as evidence of his pursuit of Christian perfection. In addition, he’d apparently sleep on the floor sometimes, getting up early to mess up his bed so he’d not be discovered. (He brought his self-whipping belt even on vacation, it seems.)
I’m something of a cautious fan of moderate ascetical practices, I confess. (Perhaps I should walk the other half of the camino de Santiago de Compostela for my penance…) I know that simple acts of self-denial can–but do not always–yield spiritual good. Fasting in moderation can sharpen the mind, can bring awareness of sustenance as gift, can invite one to a stance of active solidarity with the hungry that begins to fulfill the challenge of Mt. 25. As with any ascetical practice, the end is never the practice in itself, but the deeper resonances within it, like these. On the other hand, afflicting the body in any way immoderately is, in Thomas Aquinas’ words, “to offer a sacrifice of stolen goods.” (He cites St. Jerome on this point, but apparently incorrectly.) As with any spiritual practice, the difference between fruitful and harmful ascesis lies in self-awareness, good advice from others, and humility, which includes knowing when it’s time to stop. I am also always suspicious of ascetical practices required by others, whether that’s Church rules or the dictate of superiors. The alert, responsive and well-companioned soul knows when such are called for, and when they’re just pointless sacrifice.
However, it is difficult for me to imagine any spiritual benefit from beating oneself with a belt. To whip oneself would need more justification than I’ve ever run across where the traditional literature recommends this, which tends to see the body as needing chastisement for its unruly appetites. (This seems often to be code for sexual appetites. Odd, then that the “remedy” is such a standard act of sexual fetishism. See, e.g., the leather-clad minions of the Folsom St. Fair here in San Francisco. Along the same lines, I wonder how the postulator, or anyone else, found out he was whipping himself. Who was watching him do this??) If the aim is to make oneself more tolerant of pain, well, that’s a Stoic goal, not a Christian one. Solidarity with those in pain? Sorry, that doesn’t wash either. In fasting you abstain from food and experience hunger–in self-flagellation you are the active inflictor of pain. A virtue ethicist might wonder whether self-flagellation might make one less compassionate, not more so.
In sum, I’m not impressed by this, but weirded out, and more skeptical of the man’s sanctity. So I wanna see a REAL miracle for his cause. Let’s see a severed limb regrow, say, or a sudden burst of bipartisan fervor yield a national health plan that covers everybody.
As often, Wikipedia has something of interest:
The idea of mortification of the flesh seems to me to imply that flesh is bad. I am with St. Terese of Lisieux. I remember reading somewhere not long ago that Catholics who are dying in extreme pain may want to forego, at least for a time, painkillers. I really don’t understand it, and it seems — I can’t think of a better word — sick to me. There must be an element of sadomasochism in it — not, I hasten to add, that everything with an element of sadomasochism is bad. (Dominance and submission seem to be a natural part of human sexuality.)
I remember reading about this in reference to the founder of Opus Dei …
.. there is a tradition of physical “mortification”, and the founder of Opus Dei, the Blessed Josemaría Escrivá, was famous for beating himself until the walls of his bathroom were spattered with blood. But, these days, members have to ask permission before they can beat themselves or wear the cilice – a scratchy band worn around the thigh …
– Saints in the office, The Tablet
I can’t help thinking that self-mortification is a sign of some level of self-loathing or of a kind of dualistic hatred of the material.
“In fasting you abstain from food and experience hunger–in self-flagellation you are the active inflictor of pain. ”
That’s a distinction without a difference. Someone’s really reaching here. This post started off quite promising, but deteriorated rapidly. Being “weirded out” and more skeptical of “the man’s” sanctity. is about as non-serious a sentiment as I’ve seen on this blog.
I don’t believe John Paul II self-whipped himself. You may want to investigate that story.
Nancy, the testimony is based on the sworn testimony of 114 people who were close to him. It also reflects practices he himself praised, and the reports are hard to refute. (Although Mark Proska will I’m surely dismiss all this as completely non-serious. It beats having to try to think, which for some can be an act of self-flagellation.)
A larger point here–one which has always baffled me, perhaps because I’m so lousy at suffering–is the idea of redemptive suffering that John Paul elbaorated in his 1984 apostolic letter, Salvifici Doloris.
John Paul opens by citing Paul, “In my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church” and he continues at several points with statements such as:
In a sense I think all of this will overshadow what is a more potent example of suffering, perhaps redemptive perhaps not, but at least public–and that is John Paul’s witness of dealing with the debilitations of his final years.
That too, however, seemed to come close to overdone near the end, and a false kind of bravado as the pope was given every support to stayed propped up–the kind of support most elderly do not enjoy, and thus they cannot appear so dogged. I wondered whether the truly courageous and sacrificial act at some point would have been to resign. Not to give up, or surrender to suffering, but simply to say I can no longer do this particular job; I will carry out my vocation in another way.
The book published today also reveals how much John Paul thought about this, and the letters he wrote as regards his possible incapacitation and resignation. But he never provided the framework for such a resignation, and the prospect of an incapacitated pope remains a nightmare scenario or constitutional crisis looming for the church. And again, that will be lost in discussions of self-mortification.
BTW, Andrew Sullivan and a reader of his had some interesting thoughts on this aspect of John Paul’s “Theology of the Body.”
One should be wierded out and sceptical. Sad that stoicism infiltrated Christianity so powerfully. People who would not give you a decent greeting would wear hairshirts and flagellate themselves. In our day seminarians got a good laugh out of the practice whenever it was done. And yes, Those who got their sexuality confused might use this as some kind of replacement. Yet there is not a trace of self infliction in the life of Jesus. Even tho he suffered the most.
There is plenty of suffering in following Matthew 25. Having less health care so that others might have more. Sharing what we have not just from our abundance. Then we could work from there. Battling to give the peasants of South America a better life and not telling them this is their lot while we side with their oppressors.
It is a weird kind of sanctity where it is approved to burn people who differ at the stake and to not object when millions of people are carted off to ovens.
Stoicism is basically egotistical. It does not reach out to others but calls attention to oneself in bitterness no less. The warmth and breadth of the gospel are not found there.
“Stoicism is basically egotistical. It does not reach out to others but calls attention to oneself in bitterness no less. The warmth and breadth of the gospel are not found there.”
The emotion of bitterness would be rejected by any of the Stoics I am familiar with. Which Stoic do you consider bitter?
Who knew this about David Nickol?
…not, I hasten to add, that everything with an element of sadomasochism is bad. (Dominance and submission seem to be a natural part of human sexuality.)
Gag me with a spoon.
I’m skeptical about the claims being made about John Paul. It sounds like hagiography. I recall that George Weigel’s biography contained a passage about the sound people overheard of John Paul in prayer. I don’t have it handy, but if I am correct, his groaning was presented as being a result of deep contemplation. That image of John Paul’s spirituality seems more consistent with the picture of the man that emerges from his writings, from observing him at prayer in public places and from what everyone close to him has said in the past. It looks to me from the news reports that while the postulator’s new book draws on 114 witnesses, the evidence that the pope whipped himself is very thin – what a few people suspected based on what they thought they heard through a shut door, and the fact that John Paul had a belt hanging on a hook in his closet.
This report, if true (as it seems to be), does disturb me. What bothers me most is that these practices are apparently being cited as evidence of JPII’s holiness. I work with adolescents, and there are large numbers of teens (particularly girls) who are into “cutting” — using razors or pins or other sharp objects to inflict pain on themselves. The reasons for this are complex and varied (it can be a way to gain control over one aspect of life, a way to express self-loathing, among others); I’m hardly going to do justice to the topic here. But I’m very troubled that mortification practices are, even now, in the year 2010, being cited as proof of sanctity. It only seems to glorify self-inflicted pain, which is a highly dangerous message to send.
@Lisa Fullam,
“In sum, I’m not impressed by this, but weirded out, and more skeptical of the man’s sanctity. So I wanna see a REAL miracle for his cause. Let’s see a severed limb regrow, say, or a sudden burst of bipartisan fervor yield a national health plan that covers everybody.”
So, Ms Fullam, you being “weirded out” somehow renders moot “the man’s sanctity.”
Oh good for you, to be so absolute about what it is you believe – and what you refuse to believe.
For myself, I might find a lot of things about my faith “icky” – is that the correct Americanise? And yet I still believe,
I mean, if you really want to be “weirded out” then may I draw your attention to Calvary, because if you wan’t to be icked out beyond compare then this is the story for you.
I mean who are these people to play this trick on us?!!!!!
There’s a difference between Calvary and someone practicing ritualistic self-mortification. Jesus didn’t embrace suffering for its own sake, he was murdered.
@ Crystal
Well, yes…and…yes.
He was both a sacrifice and a true victim of a heinious murder.
Jesus did indeed embrace suffering – not for its own sake – but because that was what we as human beings were capable of inflicting upon the innocent. He took it all upon himself.
Did he do it willingly? Yes
Did he have to do it? No
Did he do it with eyes wide open? Yes
Did he do it even knowing that he was innocent? Yes
So, WHY did he do it?
And that, Crystal, is why we are all still here wondering about the power of Jesus and what he means for us.
I would hope that those posting on a Catholic blog would already know enough not to waste time querying whether Christ was murdered or was the victim of some “ritualistic self-mortification.”
You know what you have been told. You know what you have been taught.
If you can’t believe the witnesses of the time – Mary Magdelen, Peter and John etc., then you can’t believe the Church.
I agree with Virgina’s point above; the “cutting” anlaogy was the first thing that came to my mind, too.If people inflicted pain on themselves for non-religious reasons, wouldn’t we think there was some kind of mental illness going on?
Maybe I am in an extreme minority here but I can see the good in self mortification. Mortification is the denial of something whether it be food, something you give up during lent or physical wellness. I do look at the whipping and think it is an extreme end but if you are at the point you may see it as helpful. But I have had friends who practice forms like sleeping on the floor once a month or putting a pebble in their shoe each of these things can be helpful if the purpose is to remind you of the suffering of Jesus or if they bring you closer to Jesus because you feel you are sharing in his physical suffering. I also feel that it can be used in as a form of penence but as always it is not to punish but to show that you are sorry for your sins.
I think overall with physical mortification it is hard to say if it is good or it is bad, I think it should always be undertaken with the greatest care. You have to realize why you are doing it. Are you doing it because you feel alive when you feel pain, or for some reason you like it, or because you believe the body is bad and must be punished? If so than this is not a Christian reason for it this is a weak reason and and non-Christian in origin. But if you are doing it to bring you closer to the suffering of Jesus on the Cross then it has it uses. Just like many other things in the Catholic Church it is not something you have to do, and it is not for everyone but it is not something that should be frowned upon as it has been used since the beginning, think back to all the Saints and how some would where hair shirts or where only sandels even in the cold, all of this was physical mortification.
Also you have to look a Pope John Paul II, I can only speak for myself but I am not near the level of holiness that our Late Holy Father was and I do not know that I will get to that point, I can aspire but I think it is important to look at what he did on this earth and if physical mortification was part of his routine I think he showed that it can be good, it can help us grow in holiness. I am not say we should all go out a whip ourselves on a daily basis but if physical mortification can help you, look into and talk it over with a spiritual advisor. It is just another tool in our chest as Catholic Christians that if used properly and for the correct reasons can help us get closer to God.
I would recommend the novel Dayspring to gain an insight into the spiritual motive for self-mortification.
In it an Anglo anthropologist in New Mexico pretends to become a Catholic and then joins the Penitentes to study Hispanic culture from within.
On Good Friday as he draws the cart of Death and sweats and bleeds and suffers, he sees the corrupt Anglos who are gawking at the procession as they really are – distorted and demonic. He then realizes that he is bleeding for them.
Sharing in Christ’s sufferings for the redemption of sinners is a great privilege. The way we do it should be governed by both human and supernatural prudence.
David G, sometimes you simply recognize a lie from the start.
“Let’s see a severed limb regrow.” Now that would be magic, not a miracle. Every miracle requires an act of Faith to begin with.
Serious question: what is the difference between fasting and flagellation? Why would there be a dividing line between these two forms of self-denial?
We have had plenty of saints who would not be considered of sound mind or body by today’s psychological standards. In fact, many recorded statements reveal how difficult it was for others to interact and live with some of “our” saints.
So, guess you need to define “sainthood” – it sure will not be found in the DSM IV Revised Version of the Psychology Manuals. Influenced by Rahnerian sacramental theology, the works of Vanier, Schillebeeckx, etc., sacraments start with nature – nature that is created good.
Self-mortification within reason, bounds, etc. may be similar to dieting, stopping smoking, etc. but when you get to actually striking your own body……sorry, the emotional balance there is missing just as his Theology of the Body is missing so many parts.
I’m with Lisa and agree with Mr. Gibson’s statement of fact – but this is not something I admire; no, it is something I question seriously in terms of why?
I am more interested in what is said about incapacity; retiring, etc. It is too bad that he decided to not follow through with these contemplated actions. There is something in terms of enduring suffering (which is not self-inflicted); in fact, most of us will face suffering as we face our own deaths. So, his life example can be admired but not sure he needed to remain Pope to do this.
Kathy’s question about the dividing line between types of self-denial is interesting.
I can’t say self-flagellation creep me out if it deepens one’s sense of caritas that is lived out through actions and is not motivated by self-hatred or -punishment.
I think many of us practice some form of self-denial intentionally for spiritual reasons. Could be giving up material possessions so they take up less space in your house, heart and head; passing on food that is unnecessary; purchasing used items instead of new; giving up income and time to take care of someone else; taking a personal vow of celibacy.
Aren’t those things a way of “fasting” and “flagellating” the desires?
I’ve often wondered about the connection between heroic sanctity and mental health. Beyond self-inflicted injuries, there is the whole question of apparitions. Not to mention martyrdom.
Okay, how about this:
1. All forms of mortification are bad if they go to far, or are an excuse for some other kind of pathology. Anorexia is a pathology, giving up ice cream for lent isn’t.
2. I find self-flagellation upsetting too. I think it’s the difference between living simply–not buying art–and defacing it. I think the idea of marking up–bruising–drawing blood–is defacement of God’s work. And I think, maybe unlike most people, that the problem today is that most people hate their bodies, not love them too much–thanks to our media.
3. I think that real suffering- is something you don’t inflict on yourself–it is inflicted upon you–the deponent patior I think captures this. Inflicting pain on yourself seems to me to be somehow missing something essential about suffering. Now the same argument could be made about fasting in that you can eat any time you want. Still, the hunger pains themselves, the weakness itself, isn’t self-inflicted–it’s endured.
I agree more or less with Cathleen, and in response to Kathy, it seems to me that fasting and sacrificing is okay, but inflicting bodily damage goes too far. In Catholic theology (or so I thought) it’s not because God forbids something that it’s bad for us, it’s because it’s bad for us that God forbids it. Similarly, one could argue that God permits things because they are good for us; they are not good for us because God permits them. It would appear that giving up something indulgent would be acceptable on that account to the point where it is no longer good for us, at which point it serves no purpose other than fetish satisfaction.
However, with this in mind, I won’t judge one way or another what JPII did (if he did it). Who knows what sorts of demands God placed on him–that’s not my place to say. Prima facie, though, it does bother me.
JP might have done better to face up to the accusations against Maciel, ie, simply done his job.
My reaction (like most of those here) is mixed. Some skepticism about the reports — although I don’t find it beyond the pale; Wasn’t self-flagellation a relatively common part of formation for religious life not so long ago (perhaps when Karol Wojtyla was a seminarian)? Generally I hesitate to give mortification an unqualified thumbs-up or thumbs-down. I think Jean is right that the value, if there is any, is related to the motivation. Mostly I’m inclined not to react too much to this news bulletin; I think the response could easily turn into another identity-politics battleground (the only question is whether the loyal response should be “How dare you say that about JPII?” or “How dare you object to someone saying that about JPII!”).
Kathy: flagellation is more than denial. It is the deliberate inflicting of harm to the body, something that we consider wrong when done to others, and something we usually consider wrong when done to ourselves, unless we dress it up with spiritual mojo. Fasting, at least of the 24 or 48 hour kind, is not harming the body, as the body has plenty of energy sources stored in reserve. It is much more a psychological challenge than a physical one. Flagellation even goes beyond allowing the body to be exposed to colder temperatures than usual, as the body can naturally do fine at colder temperatures than we are psychologically used to. Flagellation finds goodness in badness.
Lee Podles: Your story is not really one of flagellation, but rather of solidarity with the poor. There are all sorts of reasons to applaud the kind of walking in the shoes of others that you describe, but such reasons would not support flagellation.
Bob Schwartz: I think wishing to be gagged with a spoon is a bit too kinky, and so would not choose it myself, in part because one would not be able to speak one’s “safe word” so that the person would know when to stop the gagging. But, to each his or her own.
I agree with Joseph above (you are not in such a minority!) that self-denial/self-mortification are not inherently bad, and like Lisa I appreciate fasting and other practices. (Cultural markers, no?) But again, in response to Kathy’s good question, there are boundaries, I would agree, between reminders of sacrifice and inflicting pain and har.
Here is an interesting interview with an Opus Dei priest about these practices, from the time of the Da Vinci Code movie: http://www.opusdei.us/art.php?p=16367
He says of the cilice and flagellation (with light cords): “In reality, they cause a fairly low level of discomfort comparable to fasting. There is no blood, no injury, nothing to harm a person’s health, nothing traumatic. If it caused any harm, the Church would not allow it.”
On the other hand, there must be some discomfort, no?
Some years ago I made a visit to both Fatima and Lourdes for a film project. Fatima was pretty spooky (as well as un-lovely), The people on their bloody knees, mostly women, making their ways across hundreds of yards of paving stones. Then you go to lovely Lourdes. One place is where you got hurt, the other where you got well.
I think the main issues have been raised: Our lives will have enough suffering to “offer up” if we are conscious of it, without inflicting more. And if we are doing these practices to punish ourselves for, e.g., lustful thoughts, then that doesn’t seem to be quite the same spirit, or the right spirit.
This probably more or less mirrors what Jean said.
Assuming that John Paul did engage in the practice (and there is probably no reason not to assume that he did) as a spiritual practice we have to take this in the context of all of his spiritual practices. We don’t and probably cannot know what he was addressing when he was doing this. This would only be known by him and perhaps his spiritual advisor.
The philosophical reservations to this practice are entirely legitimate but so are all of the philosophical supports. We live in an age of solutions; of science, so we look for definitive answers. But there is no spiritual practice whatsoever that can’t be abused and terminally abused. It’s part of the nature of being both spiritual and physical beings. It’s one of the reasons why, if we decide to become really serious about our spiritual development, we probably need to consider finding a good spiritual advisor. Our own subjectivity is the hardest thing to overcome because it is the hardest thing to see.
In a way, spiritual development is like artistic develop. All theories of art are probably true. All theories of art are also probably false. Art is more than a set of theories and practices. But without theories and practices one cannot produce art. Spirituality is much more than a set of theories and practices. But without these, we can’t pursue spirituality either.
But here’s the problem, Unagidon: What you’re saying, in an eminently wise manner, is that this sort of spiritual practice ought to remain private (generally), in part because the information and context necessary to assess it is not generally available.
But here, it’s being put forward as a plank in a general argument for the sanctity of the Pope–and I think, by implication–for anyone’s sanctity.
I think of Mother Theresa’s dark night, and the movie the exorcist. Both in some ways raised practices that do indeed exist within the Church, but on the borders. What do you do when delicate and troubling ideas are introduced into mainstream consciousness? You can’t stop it–and I wouldn’t want to stop it. So what’s the other info that we need to provide to put it in context?
I think the publication of this story is certainly meant as hagiography but the reactions here make we wonder if that was useful.
I suspect it’s factual JPII practiced some form of flagellation and the underpinning was theological -so much emphasis on theolgia crucis in reaction to emphasis on the Risen Christ post VII.
In my experience in working with seniors, different approaches to suffering especially in last days make me think patient suffering is not demanded and may be couterproductive.
Self denial on the other hand, particularly in our materialistic and indiviualistic society is critical.
But that doesn’t mean beating yourself.
Finally, as a footnote, I thought the mention of the Penitentes was interesting – a group of exclusive males from Latino society who carried on the Church as best they could, absent clergy to lead.
Their pentitential practices were deeply culturally shaped.
Their history viewed now could well be seen as a mixed bag.
So too I suspect JPII.
“But here, it’s being put forward as a plank in a general argument for the sanctity of the Pope–and I think, by implication–for anyone’s sanctity.”
We think in terms of cause and effect in our spirituality these days, so we are looking for the practices that will produce the best results. John Paul’s ascetic practices are impressive at least in the sense that he was practicing them as Pope and therefore it could be argued as evidence of his humility, which in turn might be a argument for his sanctity.
But because we as a culture and especially as a Catholic culture look at spirituality in the way that we do, there is no way whatsoever that we can keep people from thinking that these ascetic practices are some kind of special boot camp way to God.
Let me suggest this. While the things we usually worry about regarding the Church as a whole, the liturgy, etc. are very important (and should not be ignored) the nature of the Christian life and Christian spirituality is always close and personal. The Church has failed I think in really creating an environment for the true subtleties of spiritual development, subtleties which I think are immediately apparent to anyone who actually looks into it. But even if the general public didn’t think that spiritual practices were about cause and effect, the question of any individual’s spiritual development is still… individual. Whatever our mass media post capitalist proclivities might be, evangelization and spiritual development really has to happen on person at a time between one person and another.
People are not always “weirded out” by self-flagellation even when it goes “too far.” A few examples:
Hunger strikes for approved political purposes seem to get an OK from parts of the left.
http://www.codepinkalert.org/article.php?id=1025
And here’s a Tiepolo painting of a Roman thrusting his hand in flames. A version is prominently displayed at the top of the main stairs at the Metropolitan Museum in New York. It’s not available at their website but here’s a very similar one from the Hermitage. Lars Porsenna is shown as an example of Roman virtue who puts little value on his body.
http://www.hermitagemuseum.org/html_En/08/hm88_0_1_35_0.html
Cato, who committed suicide rather than submit to Caesar, was widely seen in the Middle Ages as a divinely inspired hero against tyrannical government. Dante regarded him as a martyr and put him as the gatekeeper of Purgatory.
Correction: It was Gaius Mucius Scaevola who put his hand in the flames. Lars Porsenna was the Etruscan king who recognized Scaevola’s Roman virtue.
“I can’t say self-flagellation creeps me out if it deepens one’s sense of caritas that is lived out through actions and is not motivated by self-hatred or -punishment.”
Like many other people, I agree this sentence neatly sums things up. (Jean, I’m really beginning to like you; hope that doesn’t creep you out.)
What did creep me out was, in the absence of any evidence, some speculation that JP the Great must have gone too far or engaged in a false bravado. Though I can’t speak as a virtue ethicist, only as a mere mortal, those presumptions seem a bit mean-spirited. By and large, though, I’ve found the comments–both perspectives–very interesting.
Before we argue about whether a disputed report that John Paul II practiced self-flagellation ought to count for or against his beatification, we might consider that many, many saints, including Francis of Assisi and Ignatius Loyola, practiced and recommended forms of self-mortification that cause physical discomfort or pain. Were they all wrong? Were they all crazy? Or is the argument here that they were saints in spite of their pathological spiritual disciplines?
The distinction between fasting and self-flagellation would need to be better developed than it is here. “In fasting you abstain from food and experience hunger–in self-flagellation you are the active inflictor of pain.” This is a verbal distinction, not a conceptual one. One could as easily say that in fasting you starve yourself in order to cause, or “inflict,” the pain of hunger. Now, you could argue that it’s OK to cause yourself pain or discomfort by refraining from doing something people ordinarily do, but not by doing something people ordinarily don’t do. But you would have to argue this, and not just assert it. I suspect everyone in the twenty-first-century West, Catholic or non-Catholic, is put off, or “weirded out,” by self-flagellation in a way most of us aren’t weirded out by fasting. If this is a reason to re-examine self-flagellation, it may also be a reason to re-examine our sensibilities. So far from this practice reflecting a hatred of the body, it suggests that the body itself can have a role to play in our meditation on Christ’s sufferings. This is the context within which self-flagellation is recommended in St. Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises, for example.
“A virtue ethicist might wonder whether self-flagellation might make one less compassionate, not more so.” Indeed, just as a virtue ethicist might wonder whether fasting really makes one less compassionate because more grouchy. Aristotle would not have understood self-flagellation; but then, Aristotle would not have understood fasting, unless it was to improve the health of the body. For those who practice it, self-mortification is a spiritual practice that is compatible with a Christian understanding of virtue; but it does not come from virtue theory, Christian or pagan. Not all good things do.
Finally, the man from Opus Dei is right. No sane spiritual advisor would recommend that one do lasting damage to one’s body — either by fasting or by self-flagellation. Which is also to say that, just as one can do serious damage to one’s body by means of self-flagellation, one can do serious damage to one’s body by means of fasting; and many have. This is not, by itself, a very good argument against either practice.
I don’t think the fact that JP II engaged in this practice will decisively affect most people’s view of his papacy. If you think he’s John Paul the Great you’re going to interpret this in a way that confirms his greatness. If you think his papacy had both good points and points, the fact that he practiced a form of spiritual mortification isn’t going to quell your doubts about the wisdom of making him a saint so soon.
More generally, the genre of hagiography isn’t designed to convince skeptics, but to confirm those already convinced of their beliefs.
Cathleen–
Actually, if JPII engaged in this practice, it doesn’t make me think more of him, necessarily, but it does make me think more of the practice.
For what it’s worth, I also have some reservations about the tendency to make people into saints too soon, even JP the Great.
“More generally, the genre of hagiography isn’t designed to convince skeptics, but to confirm those already convinced of their beliefs.”
Good point. For me, I don’t care whether he is a saint or not. This particular pope more than any other in centuries left ample and subtle documentation on what he believed that we could and should look at on its own terms regardless of whether he achieved sainthood or not.
“whether he achieved sainthood or not”
A very interesting way of saying something, worth some thought. Apart from being saved, which seems more a gift than an achievement, what is the definition of sainthood?
Matthew,
The practice of self-flagellation by other folks generally regarded as saints doesn’t justify it, any more than St. Monica’s drinking to excess is justified by her sanctity. My concern here is with the spiritual justification–why does the body need to be beaten? What is the message behind the practice?
Secondly, while I agree it wasn’t a well-worked out argument here (an argument on this point is matter for a book, not a blog,) I still like to distinguish hunger as experienced in fasting from pain as inflicted actively in self-flagellation. The distinction is key in, e.g., traditional Catholic medical ethics–one may decline life-extending treatments that are more burden than benefit, even if one knows that death will ensue. One may not actively kill–that’s euthanasia.
Abstaining from food CAN (but doesn’t always,) lead one to a stance of solidarity with those who endure hunger involuntarily. I’d have to say that, absent this kind of effect, fasting risks spiritual narcissism, (“Look at me, I can fast for 48 hours! See how strong I am against hunger!”) But self-flagellation? Actively attacking the body? What is the good of deliberately and actively inflicting pain on oneself?
“Not all good things do” come from virtue theory. Indeed–hot fudge sundaes, for example, are compatible with virtue theory, but do not come from it. Cute puppies likewise. However, in a Christian context in which we affirm the goodness of the body, then afflicting the body in any way needs justification. What’s the message? What’s the good end?
Francis of Assisi admitted that he was too hard on his body (brother ass). Let’s not fall into the trap of making saints infallible. They decidedly were not. In fact the whole process of canonization is deeply flawed. There is very strong evidence that the cult of the saints is a fourth century creation.
Self denial is quite necessary whether for spiritual reasons or not. Our children would become monsters if we did not impose it. So would we. Discipline, we call it.
Francis de Sales, one of the more sensible of declared saints, cautioned against practices such as the hairshirt and flagellations. He also had very practical advice about spirituality. Where too many can get carried away. Although, he was affected by the times in which he lived.
Closeness to God and neighbor is the goal of all spirituality. That cannot be done without humility and charity.
Maybe I spend too much time in the (virtual) middle ages, but I don’t find the practice that weird at all. Maybe someone already pointed this out and I missed it, but I don’t think we have evidence that JPII inflicted any damage on his body through the practice of flagellation. It is certainly possible to cause oneself discomfort without bruising or drawing blood.In this way, I really don’t see how it is any different from the self-inflicted discomfort of fasting.
Catherine,
Attonement is only one of the ways of looking at Jesus’ death. As states this article by Ken Overberg SJ at American Catholic, which begins like this ….
The shadow of the cross covers our Christmas crib. During Advent and Christmas, we prepare for and then celebrate God’s coming into the world. Still, most of us probably do not ask why God became flesh. If we did, our answers would likely sound something like this: “Jesus came to redeem us.” Or more strongly: “Jesus came to die for our sins.” Such convictions are found in the Scriptures and expressed in our liturgy. The shadow of the cross is present, even if not the center of our attention during these seasons.
There is, however, an alternative view about why God became human, expressed both in the Scriptures and in the Christian tradition. Though less well known, this perspective which emphasizes God’s overflowing love offers more light than shadow. This article presents some of the key insights of the different perspective and suggests some implications not only for our celebration of Christmas but also for our everyday relationship with God …
Francis de Sales, one of the more sensible of declared saints, cautioned against practices such as the hairshirt and flagellations.
How many spiritual leaders, saints or otherwise, ever suggest that finding pleasure in the goodness of creation is not sinful and is in fact necessary for spiritual health?
Fasting can be seen as a way for the body to participate in incarnated prayer. That point is briefly developed by Fabrice Hadjadj in his book “La foi des demons”.
“How many spiritual leaders, saints or otherwise, ever suggest that finding pleasure in the goodness of creation is not sinful and is in fact necessary for spiritual health?”
Many more than you might think. But the holes in the Puritan produced American colander are mostly too small to let that information through the strainer.
I think there are two ways to “get carried away” (as Bill and St. Francis de Sales note) with any devotional discipline, whether it’s saying your rosary daily, keeping a perpetual novena going, abstaining from meat every Friday, wearing a cilise, or practicing flagellation.
There’s the danger in thinking that, like Dana Carvey’s Church Lady, you make God love you more because your devotions are more regular/painful/time-consuming than somebody else’s. Isn’t it the other way around? It’s God’s love that inspires you to devotion; without that, it’s not a devotion, it’s an act you perform to impress yourself.
There’s also the danger that your devotions are an attempt to ward off some bigger evil. I.e., I’m already beating myself up, God, so you don’t need to send me or any members of my immediate family cancer. If I understand it correctly, God really doesn’t need propitiation. Christ on the cross took care of all that for us.
Maybe it helps to see that what seem like extreme but nonethless traditional forms of devotion in our own time (hair shirts, flagellation, long periods of fasting, celibacy) as something like labor pains that result in the birth of a heightened awareness of our mission as Christians.
Maybe it would also help to remember that very few people have a genuine calling to such forms of devotion, and that they would take place under very wise and judicious spiritual direction.
At least that’s my attempt at trying to get to Cathleen’s question about context.
***
“Jean, I’m really beginning to like you; hope that doesn’t creep you out.”
Ditto. I hope you don’t find that mortifying. :)
Unagidon –
About Christian spirituality, are you proposing different strokes for different folks? (Groan.) (Sorry, couldn’t resist.)
Christopher Beam has an “Explainer” column on this at Slate. Not a bad historical overview, although he conflates all kinds of voluntary mortification/deprivation (and even involuntary — how germane is Padre Pio’s stigmata to this discussion?), without acknowledging the difficult distinctions you all are puzzling over here. Also, there’s this unfortunate phrasing:
Ahem.
There seems to be a wide variety of opinions on self-flagellation as a spiritual tool. This form of devotion is not for me, but I tend to agree with those who think that flagellation that does not damage the body can have a spiritual purpose.
But when is a line crossed? How about this Good Friday practice in the Philippines?
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/7305522.stm
I don’t question the faith, devotion, and sincerety of those involved, but IMO real crucifixion crosses a line.
“Unagidon –
About Christian spirituality, are you proposing different strokes for different folks? (Groan.) (Sorry, couldn’t resist.)”
I’ll admit it. I’m whipped.
Antonio –
The great Puritan theologian/preacher Jonathan Edwards delighted in nature and even was aware God’s dwelling in it, so I think the Puritans have gotten a bad reputation they don’t all deserve. And among Catholics there was St. Francis. And consider Chaucer, a medieval man if ever there was one. He and his characters (at least most of them) delighted in the natural order. Yes, the Albigensians were a big exception. But they were (cruelly) destroyed for their anti-material world beliefs.
I just don’t think it’s easy to generalize about Catholic attitudes towards the physical world. Yes, the Janssenists are the big modern exception. And, yes, the Vatican seems to be populated by them in recent centuries. But the Vatican is not the whole Church.
I am thinking of marketing a device that allows religious people to give themselves painful electric shocks. If used as directed, it inflicts only pain and does not cause injury or endanger the user in any way. It is actually superior to flogging, since the pain it can cause ranges from the mild to the unbearable, and it leaves no marks. Would any of those who approve of flogging care to invest in my company? Is there anything wrong with inflicting pain with an electrical device instead of a leather belt?
It is a small device and can be concealed under the clothing. You do not need the privacy of your home or hotel room. You can give yourself repeated jolts while waiting for elevators, standing in line at the bank, or riding the bus to work. You may suffer as much as you want, where you want, and when you want! With this device, you can be holier than the pope!
David, are you spamming us?
“The great Puritan theologian/preacher Jonathan Edwards delighted in nature and even was aware God’s dwelling in it, so I think the Puritans have gotten a bad reputation they don’t all deserve.”
I wasn’t referring to all of them Ann. Just the ones I don’t like. Of course.
David–
I am not interested in investing, but if it can be activated remotely, say, by a parent on children, I’ll take 3.
If my wife asks you to include a 4th, please don’t!
I do think that self-mortification allows people the same benefits that teens cutting themselves allows …. a way to express self-loathing and a way to try to control something in their lives.
I hate to keep bring up Jesus :) but he was notable for not engaging in ascetic practices (like John the Baptist) and was instead considered a glutton and a drunkard by some … ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice.’
Lisa,
The place of self-mortification in, for example, Ignatian spirituality is really nothing like St. Monica’s drinking problem. No saint thought — or taught — that one becomes holier by drinking to excess. St. Ignatius (among others) did teach that one could undertake physical discomfort and even pain not only as a form of penance but also as a way to recall, to one’s whole self, the sufferings of Christ. Maybe he was wrong about this. If he was, there was a major error at the heart of his spiritual method, and he misled his followers into wasting their time with pointless, painful exercises.
Not to eat when one is very hungry and there is food at hand is not only to deny oneself a pleasure; it is, or can be, to cause oneself pain. One could argue that it is pointless to cause oneself pain or discomfort out of solidarity — as pointless, therefore, to fast as to practice self-flagellation. But if it is possible by fasting to heighten one’s awareness of the pain others experience because of involuntary hunger, why shouldn’t it be possible to heighten one’s awareness of the sufferings Christ bore by deliberately experiencing some physical pain while one meditates on those sufferings? One can of course meditate on Christ’s passion without any self-mortification, just as one can feel great compassion for those who are hungry without being hungry oneself. And if fasting weakens you physically when you need strength to relieve suffering, then you should probably avoid it.
Euthanasia is wrong because it is always wrong to kill an innocent human being, no matter the circumstance. There is no equivalent prohibition in the church’s moral tradition against causing physical pain — to oneself or to another. One obviously needs a good reason to inflict physical pain; the question, then, is whether a heightened spiritual awareness of Christ’s sufferings is a good enough reason, and whether practices like self-flagellation really do conduce to such an awareness.
I am actually posing a serious question. If self-inflicted pain and suffering can be of spiritual benefit, why is this discussion only about fasting and self-flagellation? Suppose by electronic methods, one could come close to actually simulating the pain of a Roman scourging or the feel of a nail piercing a hand or foot? (I do not doubt that this is possible.) Wouldn’t that be superior to self-flagellation in terms of putting one in touch with the suffering of Jesus? Are those who are comfortable with self-flagellation not troubled because it is “traditional,” whereas electric shock is not?
Matthew,
St. Ignatius (among others) did teach that one could undertake physical discomfort and even pain not only as a form of penance but also as a way to recall, to one’s whole self, the sufferings of Christ. Maybe he was wrong about this. If he was, there was a major error at the heart of his spiritual method, and he misled his followers into wasting their time with pointless, painful exercises.
The Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius aren’t all about penance and self-mortification, they’re about getting to know and love Jesus and then to choose to follow him in his mission. Ignatius was a person of his time and he did practice self-mortification, but he was a person with issues too – he had a lot of problems with “scruples” and even considered suicide at one point. I think it’s untrue that penance and self-mortification lie at the heart of his spirituality, though.
One point not yet spoken about –
For eons mystics of various religions have used both physical and mental ascetic practices to gain control of their own bodies and consciousnesses, and for many it does seem to work, even to an extraordinary degree. Consider for instance the Hindus who walk over burning coals without injury. They do such practices in order to prepare for or cause mystical experiences.
In other words, ascetism can yield self -control, at least of certain kinds. I think the whole topic needs more reliable data and then more study.We also need to learn more about masochism, its attractions and effects.
Crystal,
Yes, the Exercises are above all about getting to know and love Jesus and choosing to follow him, and it was Ignatius’s belief that self-mortification could help you do this. He did not scruple to involve the body in prayer and meditation, and it would not have occurred to him that deliberately undergoing physical pain had anything to do with suicide or other forms of self-destruction. True, he was a person of his time, as we are people of ours. As his method was conditioned by all sorts of contigencies, so are our judgments about his method. I think one reason we find fasting more palatable (so to speak) as a spiritual discipline is that, especially in our time, something very similar to fasting is a common secular discipline. It’s called dieting. People diet for lots of reasons — to get in shape for a sport, to lose weight, to “cleanse” — but no one does it for fun. The discomfort is tolerated because it is supposed (by everyone) to lead to some physical good. The idea that physical discomfort could lead to a spiritual good is very foreign to most people, whether or not they are religious. Some don’t believe in the soul. Others, including many Christians, think of the soul as so separate from the body that there could be no traffic between them. Nothing the soul does could help the body; nothing the body does could help the soul. Each looks after itself, enjoying the separate pleasures and suffering the separate hurts that belong to each.
If fasting is meant to ” lead one to a stance of solidarity with those who endure hunger involuntarily “, then I have the perfect form of self-denial for our times: rescinding your health insurance will definitely lead one to a stance of solidarity with those who endure lack of health insurance involuntarily.
I couldn’t possibly bring myself to do that, but imagine what would happen if our bishops did it!
Sleeping on the floor didn’t help the Pope to address the clerical abuse crisis.
Whipping himself didn’t prevent him from supporting a cult founded by a sex offender.
David Nickol’s question is right on: would it be seen as the same if we read that the Pope consciously took a pill that gave him a migraine or stomach cramps? Maybe there’s a business opportunity in this!
Ann’s point is well taken, asceticism has many purposes, but I have to agree with Bill, that in this case, it seems undertaken for a very Stoic reason: not yielding to the passions.
The great Puritan theologian/preacher Jonathan Edwards delighted in nature and even was aware God’s dwelling in it, so I think the Puritans have gotten a bad reputation they don’t all deserve.
This is the same Jonathen Edwards who gave the sermon, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God”.
If JPII did, in fact, whip himself, his name does not belong in the list of saints but, rather, in an undergraduate textbook on abnormal psychology.
Truly sick.
I can’t help thinking of self-flagellation as a distortion of some kind. It makes me very wary of JPII.
The Opus Dei practitioners, the Legion of Christ seminarians given whips to expunge sexual thoughts/deeds, the Shiites at their annual feast day — my God, what good is there in self-abuse? Yes, Crystal, cutting comes to mind. Thank you, Lisa, (and others) for your comments.
I am suspicious of supposedly solid motives to inflict physical pain. I am away from home but have a study there of masochism in a religious context I wish I had to hand. There are some disturbing edges to the whole subject.
It is hard to accept an image of God who welcomes self-inflicted pain as a sign of how much you love him. Mixing up love and pain that is willed can be a dicey proposition.
Fascinating, thought-provoking and humorous comments here, but I am just unnerved by the whole idea.
Matthew,
I think I see what you mean about body/soul dualism – I was just reading about Aquinass’ take on that as opposed to the neo-Platonists. I do think the body and soul are connected and can affect each other, but all I’m saying is that the reasons people inflict physical pain on themselves can be complex, not all are good, and that the belief that ritual physical acts can be a shortcut to metanoia is questionable.
Re David’s proposed ShockMeister 6000, my sense is that such a device wouldn’t focus the mind on Christ’s sufferings for humanity in the way that the whip and cilice would (flogging and crown of thorns).
But I have to say I found his post thought-provoking and the idea of such a device repugnant. And I guess what bothers me is imagining someone making such a thing.
The whole other side to the mortification of the flesh devotion, I guess, is a the question of whether it’s really entirely moral to manufacture devices that you know people are going to hurt themselves with. Is there a difference–if only in degree–between the people who would make an electric shock device and somebody who would hammer nails into somebody else’s flesh on Good Friday because somebody asked him to?
Would I make a whip for somebody who said he had a sincere desire to use one in his devotions? No. Emphatically not. Yet, these things are made (the full weight waist cilices are handcrafted by Italian nuns) and sold, and some of them cost a fair amount of $$.
http://www.cilice.co.uk/
What would a priest say if a parishioner brought in one of these items for a blessing?
I don’t know. It’s not the self-flagellating or the cilice-wearing that gets to me, but the making of such devices.
Having one of my real big Protestant Moments right now.
It is, I contend, harsh to call JPII sick because of this practice. It is after all recommended all over the place in the misguided advice of many spiritual leaders in the Catholic Church. You can find support for it in most of the major theologians and doctors of the church. It is the stoic influence which remained. Even DeSales wrote that you can wear a hairshirt as long as you get the permission of your spiritual director.
“…then I have the perfect form of self-denial for our times: rescinding your health insurance will definitely lead one to a stance of solidarity with those who endure lack of health insurance involuntarily.”
Now there is a great idea if there ever was one. How about that rubber hitting the road!
I went to the website Jean mentioned http://www.cilice.co.uk/ and was simply repulsed by the entire collection of goods sold, and particularly the discussion group comments.
And consider Chaucer, a medieval man if ever there was one. He and his characters (at least most of them) delighted in the natural order.
Not to mention his mentor Bocaccio, who unfortunately seemed to get cold feet in his old age.
According to the report, no one ever witnessed the “whipping”, but someone or some persons heard it. If you heard what appeared to be the sound of someone being “whipped”, why wouldn’t you want to investigate and find out if someone was being “whipped’, or “whipping” themself. Either way, why would you ignore the sound?
Carolyn, I hesitate to judge what’s in people’s souls, but I think what I find disturbing in the forum comments at the cilice.co.uk site is that the posters see suffering as an end in itself for the practioners alone. There is no sense that I can see–though perhaps it is implicit among practioners of these devotions–that such things are leading anyone to a greater connection with the Body of Christ–which is His people.
Before I ever became a Christian, I felt that the whole crux of Christ’s message was to bring comfort to others, even in the midst of our own suffering and death. One Good Friday, long ago, I happened to have the radio on was arrested by a sermon broadcast in which a black Baptist minister pointed out that on that day, even after he had been stripped of everything and nailed to a cross, “Jesus Christ stopped dying long enough to help a dying man.”
If, through small, self-imposed sufferings, we learn to work through our own suffering on our own crosses and continue to perform the works of mercy and caritas, then I can’t see anything wrong with that.
But to pile on the mortifications just to show God how much we can take strikes me as an empty exercise.
This certainly is a thought-provoking post. While the idea of self-flagellation initially revolted me, it has been fruitful to hear others’ opinions on the matter.
The gospels (Matthew and Luke) show us a Jesus who begins his public ministry with a period of fasting and prayer in the desert, a kind of tempering in preparation for what is to come. He is led by the Spirit to do so, just as I believe he is led by the Spirit to stay in Jerusalem even when his execution seems a likely outcome. I have always been turned off, so to speak, by the obsession with the Cross by many of the faithful. One of my teachers noted how in one sense it is a symbol of the most unjust torture and execution in history. I don’t believe he chose to have himself crucified or to be beaten mercilessly. The choice comes in Gethsemane, which always captivates me to a greater extent than does the crucifixion. We see a Jesus who does not desire his own death, but has the courage to be faithful, to trust God, in the face of overwhelming fear. He decides not to cut loose and run. I do not know why people want to whip themselves; maybe it is to foster identification with Christ’s suffering. Perhaps they will be granted the stigmata and fully know the reality of what Christ underwent. I just believe it better to yearn for the trust of Christ, to allow the Spirit to guide us and strengthen us enough to face whatever suffering we will encounter or are even called to encounter. Lord knows we are presented with plenty of it. That said, it may simply not be my spirituality. If it is fruitful for others, who am I to say otherwise?
It is not God’s desire that we suffer. God desires Salvation for us.
“The choice comes in Gethsemane, which always captivates me to a greater extent than does the crucifixion. We see a Jesus who does not desire his own death, but has the courage to be faithful, to trust God, in the face of overwhelming fear. He decides not to cut loose and run.”
I’ve often thought about this. The sorrowful mysteries of the rosary actually do a good job of encouraging contemplation on this, as do the Stations of the Cross.
There is something very modern about mental anguish.
Nancy you raise an interesting question. You say:
“According to the report, no one ever witnessed the “whipping”, but someone or some persons heard it. If you heard what appeared to be the sound of someone being “whipped”, why wouldn’t you want to investigate and find out if someone was being “whipped’, or “whipping” themself. Either way, why would you ignore the sound?”
Let’s think about that seriously, though: if you believed the Pope to be alone in his room, and you heard that sound, and you knew that there is a massive history of self-flagellation in the Church–including saints like Thomas and Ignatius, would YOU have gone and interrupted it? I surely would not have. And, if it became common knowledge and/or suspicion that the Pope was engaging in this, and it was heard repeated times, would YOU then still be inclined to approach him? Again, given human psychology, the innate deference to authorities, and the role that the Pope has in the Church, I really doubt anyone would have gone to the Supreme Pontiff and questioned his practices. Even if people wanted to investigate, as you suggest, I doubt anyone would. Just some thoughts.
“If, through small, self-imposed sufferings, we learn to work through our own suffering on our own crosses and continue to perform the works of mercy and caritas, then I can’t see anything wrong with that.”
Yes, I agree with this.
Tying this into our separate discussion of Catholic culture – there was much wisdom, istm, in observing Friday as a day of abstinence, not just in Lent, but throughout the year – an important strand of our spirituality that was woven into our lives.
Goyo, if I heard the sound of someone being whipped, I would not have ignored it, and I certainly would not continue to ignore it the more I heard it. How can this be common knowledge if no one investigated the “whipping” while it was occuring? A common assumption is not the same as common knowledge.
OK Nancy, fair enough, but I’m asking would you knock on the Pope’s bedroom door given all your other background assumptions: that he’s alone, that auto-flagellation is not uncommon in our Church’s history or among the saints, and, possibly, that others have heard it in the past?
An assumption could become knowledge, in this case, if the self-whipping is the best available explanation for the phenomenon in question given other facts and pieces of evidence: multiple sources, repeated hearings, a background knowledge of the practice among penitents, ascetics, and saints, etc. Is it absolutely indefeasible knowledge? Well no, but what is? That’s how our beliefs achieve the status of empirical knowledge; they are the best available explanations given other background beliefs, evidence, and knowledge.
The best available explanation can always be found by “knocking on the door.” :-)
About the mental health of some who practice self-flagellation —
It is obvious that to suffer for the sake of a loved one is a proof of love, and I’m quite sure that many people do ascetic practices in the belief the it proves their love for God. The reason they believe that is because they have been taught that. Is that crazy/neurotic? I think not. What is neurotic or at lesst immature is to believe everything an authority tells you.
I”m also sure the Lord accepts their willingness to suffer for Him as the sign of love it was.
It seems to me that most of the people commenting on the recent news of JP II’s mortifications have very limited knowledge of the mistical aspect of our faith and our relationship with Jesus Christ. The grace of living in such close relationship with Christ is given to only a few and not everyone is given the grace to do certain things. That is why the Lord said that many are called but only a few are chosen. Those who are chosen are the ones who, by the grace of God, have been called into a special relationship with the Lord, one that requires sacrifice on our part and one that calls us to a deeper union with the Lord and a strong desire for reparition. It is this very union with the Lord that lifts us up above that which is of the world and allows us, through a special grace, to participate in the life of Christ. Being a good, devout Christian is an honorable thing and it is something that is possible only through the graces we receive, being a Christian who is in a union with the Lord is an extraordinary grace for some who empty themselves so completely that they allow the Lord to work through them.
It amazes me how many Catholics have no clue as to the mistical life with Christ even though they so eagerly blog about our faith and give us the impression that they know our faith so thoroughly.
To all of those who are “weirded out” as someone put it, I suggest dwelving into the writings of the Saints. I especially recommend the diary of St. Faustina, who so very simpy, with all humilty wrote about her experiences with the Lord.
There is a difference between self-sacrifice and self-mutilation. Pope John Paul II recognized that the Human Body was a Gift.